


Talkin' All That Jazz

by nu_breed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing Dean enjoys more than making Sam blush; kid has no poker face whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talkin' All That Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/)**blindfold_spn** for the prompt: Nothing Dean enjoys more than making Sam blush; kid has no poker face whatsoever. Dean will wait until they are halfway through lunch at the diner, or sitting in the middle of a row in a crowded movie theater, and start saying the filthiest things imaginable in a perfectly normal tone of voice. Sam is horribly embarrassed and totally turned on.

Sam is going to kill Dean. No, death would be too quick and Sam wants something long and drawn-out and painful. It’s only fair, really, given the fact that Dean is driving him fucking insane.

It all started when Sam drunkenly mentioned that he had a thing for Dean’s voice. That he loved it when Dean threatened demons with it, the gruff, growly timbre that felt like it was vibrating through Sam’s whole body, and while he loathed when he had to hear Dean flirting with random waitresses and bargirls, the way he would talk to them made Sam’s toes curl.

“You like it, huh?” Dean had hissed in his ear while he jerked Sam off slow and achingly hard, the cool metal of his ring smooth like butter against his cock, hand sliding up and down, “Wanna hear me talk to you like that? Bend you over that table over there and tell you how hard you make me? Sweet little ass just made for my cock?”

Sam had come messy and hard, long strands of white covering his belly and neck and chin and Dean had laughed and called him ‘easy’ as he unzipped his pants and gestured for Sam to drop to his knees.

That was only the start. Dean had all the mileage he needed to make Sam’s life a living hell, and Sam knew that he wouldn’t let up until the next big distraction came along. This was the best of both worlds for Dean; he got to get laid as well as tease Sam mercilessly, which Sam thought was pretty much like Christmas for his brother.

Dean always bores very easily, though, which is probably why he decided that it wasn’t enough to torture Sam in private.

The first time Dean screws with him in public, they’re sitting in a diner. Sam’s eating his breakfast of corned beef hash and toast and their waitress comes over to refill his and Dean’s coffee. She’s gorgeous; honey-blonde hair and big blue eyes and the best ass that Sam’s seen in a long time. He watches her as she walks away, and turns back to Dean, who is staring right at Sam, raising an eyebrow.

He takes a sip of his coffee and Dean gets up, pretends to stretch and walks around to Sam’s side, positioning himself next to Sam in the booth.

“She’s pretty hot, Sam.” He steals a piece of Sam’s toast and slathers it with butter, shoves it into his mouth and devours the whole thing. Sam would be horrified if he hadn’t lived with his brother’s vile table manners for years, “she’d look great on my lap, I think, riding me slow with that tight little uniform pushed up.”

Sam swallows. Hard. His cheeks are starting to flush and his cock is aching in his jeans. Dean drops his hand under the table and traces the inseam of Sam’s jeans with his fingers; lightly, maddeningly close to his cock but never touching it. Sam bites back a whimper.

“But she’s not as hot as you Sam. Bet she doesn’t look as hot as you do when my cock’s deep inside you and you’re moaning like a fucking whore, begging for it deeper and harder.” He licks the shell of Sam’s ear, and adds, “I’d hold you there, Sam, my hands on your nipples. Twist them in my fingers, good and hard and watch you, sliding up and down on my cock, make you come without even fucking touching you.”

Sam’s hand shakes as he reaches down to pick up his coffee, and he can tell without looking that his fucking nightmare of a brother is _smirking_.

There’s a cough close by and the manager is standing inches away from the booth. He’s a timid little man in his forties, about half the size of Dean, with a terrible comb over.

“Sir, I. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he stammers, “we don’t condone sexual harassment in any form, and there’s been a complaint from one of our other patrons. I hope you understand.”

Dean stands up and moves right into the poor guy’s space. “Sure, no problem, Chuckles. Me and my boy are just leaving. Oh and by the way? Love the hair.” He winks at the manager and struts off, leaving Sam to try and control himself enough to leave the booth.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Sam says, patting the guy on the shoulder, “history of mental problems, I’m sure you understand.” His cock is so hard it’s pressing against his zipper, and he pulls his shirt down, trying to cover it as best as he can.

Dean grabs Sam when he gets outside, and pulls him into the nearest alleyway.

“What the fuck, Dean?” Sam spits at him, “why’d you pull that shit in there? Do you like humiliating me?”

“Course,” Dean says, shrugging his shoulders and grinning so much that Sam wants to bury his fist in that face. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean any of it. Love watching you try and hold it together when all you want to do is get off, Sammy, it’s fucking _hot_. Gonna do everything I said to you when I get you back to the hotel, too.”

Dean kisses him hard and rough and violent before he drops to his knees and sucks Sam’s cock so hard and deep that Sam sees stars when he comes.

***

It escalates from there.

They get kicked out of a cowboy bar after Dean, while waiting to order, tells Sam he wants to bend him over the bar and tongue his ass for hours, while Sam wears a cockring so he can’t come. They very nearly get beaten to a pulp, but Dean’s too quick and agile for that, and he has a gun whereas the rednecks don’t.

Sam is halfway between scared and wanting to help them break Dean’s legs. Oh and turned-on. Of course.

They get kicked out of more bars, diners, and in one very memorable incident: a library. Apparently, the head librarian doesn’t really appreciate Dean proclaiming that books make him horny and he thinks Sam would look really good fingering himself on a chair in the middle of the erotic nineteenth century literature section.

It’s the perfect situation for Dean, because not only does he get to embarrass Sam and turn him on beyond belief; he also gets a chance to stick it to the man, either outwardly, or covertly.

“Dean, we’re going to get _arrested_ ,” Sam complains, when Dean suggests the next best place to talk about fucking is the St Mary of the Blessed Virgin church. “And I don’t know if you’re aware, but prison? It’s not like it is in Conjugal Visits VI – Twinks in Jumpsuits.”

Dean decides against the church because he has enough reasons to end up in hell, but not before loudly mentioning his fantasy of Sam in an orange jumpsuit getting fucked by a Prison Guard who looks suspiciously like Dean with his “incredibly large, like larger than most guys” ‘Nightstick’.

They’re watching a movie at some rundown Duplex in Portland that Sam can’t even remember the name of, some god-awful romcom where there’s some case of mistaken identity and the two leads spend the whole time being alternately infatuated and pissed off with each other. So irritating.

They’re about 20 minutes into the movie when Sam goes to put his hand in the bucket of popcorn and Dean grabs it and shoves it to his crotch, half-whispering, “Feel that, Sammy? That’s how fucking hard you make me. You hard too?”

Sam just breathes through his nose; in and out, in and out. After a few seconds have passed in silence, he nods and opens his legs. He’s so fucking easy for Dean, it’s probably really sick. He knows part of this is a game, but he can’t help it, it gets him in his gut every single fucking time, and he knows deep down that while Dean’s having fun pushing Sam while pissing off authority figures, that none of what Dean says is in any way untrue.

Dean just really loves to get off, and Sam is down with that, even when he wants to murder him slowly and painfully.

“What d’you think they’d do if I fucked you against that balcony?” Dean says, biting Sam’s neck so hard it makes Sam flinch, “You think they’d kick us out?”

“I don’t.” Sam stops, biting his tongue as Dean gets his hand on Sam’s cock, rubbing it relentlessly through the denim. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why, little brother?” Dean hisses, “there’s no-one here. There’s about six people in the audience because this movie fucking _sucks_ and you can’t tell me you don’t wanna get laid, because I can _feel how hard you are_.”

Sam whimpers, softly, and Dean gets a hand in his hair, pulling him closer. “See that balcony? Gonna fuck you up against it, because that’s what happens to whores like you, Sam. They get fucked in public where anyone can see them.”

Dean kisses Sam, tongue pushing into Sam’s mouth like he’s fucking it.

“Stand up,” Dean growls in Sam’s ear, “and hold on to the railing.”

Sam wants to say, “Screw you,” wants to remind Dean that Sam isn’t his personal fucktoy to use whenever he wants. But Sam just really, really likes it when Dean uses that voice on him, and he really _really_ loves getting fucked by his brother. So he’s okay with compromising his principles, really, he’s flexible.

“Open up,” Dean says, his fingers pushing in between Sam’s lips. Sam sucks them into his mouth slow, teasing, his tongue licking long and lazy, coating them with saliva. Sam loves Dean’s hands, his fingers so long and skilled and Sam just goes down on them, deepthroats them like he would if he were on his knees worshipping Dean’s cock.

“Fucking mouth on you, Sam, it’s obscene.” Dean uses his other hand to unbuckle Sam’s belt, unbutton his jeans, and he sounds so turned on that it’s almost like he’s choking the words out, “Gonna fuck you into next week.”

Dean pulls his hand free of Sam’s mouth and pulls down Sam’s jeans and boxers. The cool air of the theatre bites and Sam swears under his breath as Dean shoves two fingers into him without warning. Dean’s fingers slide out and in, wet with his own spit, and Sam grips the railing so hard that he feels like his fingers are going to cramp.

“Yeah, Sam, feel so fucking good.” Dean adds a third finger, opening him up and pressing against his prostate, Sam doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to keep quiet. “So fucking tight, you have no idea. Have to fuck you now, can’t wait.”

Sam spreads his legs as wide as he can, and breathes in sharply as Dean pulls his fingers out and shoves in, slow, head of his cock pushing inside. He fucking loves this, feeling stretched wide and full, and Dean’s cock always feels so good, like it fucking _fits_.

“Screw that movie,” Dean growls in Sam’s ear, “you know what I’d pay money to see? This. You. So good at taking my cock, Sam. God, I’d love to film it, watch it back so I can see how good you look when I fuck you.” Dean shoves in, hard, “Just. Like. This.”

“Fuck,” Sam groans, pushing back as Dean does, his hips moving with his brothers’ and when Dean drops his hand to Sam’s cock, Sam has to bite his lip to stop himself from keening. He doesn’t last long at all, maybe a few minutes, but Dean’s been winding him up for so long now that it’s practically Pavlovian. Dean’s hand on him, his cock so full and wide inside Sam, and the filth pouring from his mouth. It’s all too fucking much. He comes so long and hard and _violent_ that he feels like his grip on the railing is the only thing stopping him from losing his balance and hitting the floor. It’s like a rollercoaster, and he wants to fucking scream his lungs out.

Dean keeps fucking him through it, deep hard thrusts, holding Sam by the hair and pulling his head back so they can kiss; awkward and messy and open-mouthed. Sam groans into Dean’s mouth, lets Dean swallow all the noise Sam desperately wants to make, but can’t. When Dean comes minutes later, cock buried and pulsing deep inside Sam, Sam returns the favour, swallowing Dean’s ground-out, “Fuck, Sam, fucking Christ.”

Dean wraps an arm around Sam’s chest and holds him there, as the two of them breathe in tandem.

“Okay,” Dean pants, pulling out slow and careful, “I think I might be over this fucking in public thing.”

“Nothing to do with the fact that we didn’t get kicked out,” Sam says, tilting his head to watch if Dean’s expression changes.

“Nah. As hot as that was?” He pulls his boxers up and pauses to tuck himself in, zip up his jeans and refasten his belt, “it isn’t the same when I can’t make you scream at the top of your lungs like Jenna fucking Jameson.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam takes his overshirt off and wipes the mess he’s made of his t-shirt away as best as he can. “You’re done trying to embarrass me?”

Dean laughs, “Good try, little brother. I have all new ways to embarrass you,” he taps his head, “in here.”

Whoever said that being the younger brother was easy? Was a filthy liar.


End file.
